


the longest way round (is the shortest way home)

by Fierysky



Series: Quakerider Comfort [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, Friendship/Love, Suicide mention, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-03-24 19:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fierysky/pseuds/Fierysky
Summary: Tattoo artist Robbie Reyes' fate is about to change the day Coulson and Skye walk into his shop.Seems like Skye's fate changes, too, as the years go by.





	1. Skye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DreamingofStardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingofStardust/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Symbols](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11926227) by [AchillesMonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AchillesMonkey/pseuds/AchillesMonkey). 



> Title is quote from James Joyce's _Ulysses._
> 
> Inspired by AchillesMonkey's drabble (which was inspired by [Stjarna's Pipsy story!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907195/chapters/26902953))
> 
> Biluata's [tattoo AU mood board](https://biluata.tumblr.com/post/171224306892/quakerider-tattoo-au-20-running-from-her-tragic) helped motivate me to write! :)

* * *

 

When it came to cars, Robbie Reyes was a hard man to impress. His baby- a ‘69 Dodge Charger- made sure of that.

But damn, he was close to drooling now, looking at the red Corvette parked outside the tattoo shop. The year was ‘61 or ‘62, he was sure of it, and he was curious as hell what was under its hood.

He returned to checking his afternoon appointments, and the too familiar unease skittered across his spine. Two more cancellations, just like yesterday and the day before that. And the deadline for Gabe’s science camp with a 50% deposit was due soon. Rent was already one month behind, everything else two.

He clenched his jaw remembering the offer from Ignacio.

Cash, no questions asked, if he ran some deliveries over the border, no questions asked.

Robbie exhaled, shaking his head.

He was desperate, yes, but not that desperate.

Not yet.

The sharp jangle of the door interrupted his thoughts.

“I’ve thought of getting a tattoo before.” An older man in a sharp charcoal suit was taking off his sunglasses, his left hand in a sling. He stopped at the bright red accent wall at the front of the shop where Canelo had pictures of tattoos done over the years.

“Cap’s shield on your back?” The young lady next to him teased, and seeing their dark heads together made Robbie’s chest hurt thinking about his own father. Papá wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of running drugs or anything illegal.

Would Gabe say the same about _him_ when he got to Robbie’s age?

“Hey,” Robbie greeted the duo, needing to escape his thoughts. “What can I do for you?”

The girl turned, all bouncy hair and bright eyes. Sadness lurked, but Robbie ignored it. She was probably some spoiled rich kid, with her daddy wrapped tightly around her finger.

“Hi!” she smiled. “I want to get this behind my left ear?”

And she had to audacity to take out a fucking creased sticky note, like they were in kindergarten, passing messages.

Robbie wordless took the scrap of paper and resisted the urge to roll his eyes when he saw the script.

Didn’t everyone want some variation of Asian culture nowadays? It was either that or superhero related.

Still, Stanford’s science camp wasn’t cheap and Gabe had been talking about it for months. He’d tattoo _Namaste_ on her forehead if she wanted it.

“I can do that.” Robbie jerked his head to the parlor. “Come on back.”

The Chinese script on the post-it note was handwritten and he had to replicate it on regular paper to create a stencil before he could ink to her skin.

He’d started working when the suit spoke up. “Phil Coulson,” he introduced himself amiably. “Nice shop you have here, Mr-?”

He even sounded like a suburban dad. Robbie knew what was coming.

“Reyes. Everything’s clean. Certifications up to date. Prices on the wall.”

“I checked everything out before I came.” The girl was apparently right at his side, and Robbie, not expecting her that close to him, jumped.

“Oops, didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to see.” She smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear and Robbie finally made out her features in the light.

Shit, he was an ass for judging her choice to get a Chinese script.

“My name’s Skye,” she continued, peering curiously at his tools.

“Robbie,” he grunted. “Sure, you can look.” No sooner were the words out his mouth, she was even closer, peppering him with questions, her bright voice chasing away his earlier worries.

She only flinched once, when he tattooed the design, and he felt like a bigger ass for assuming she’d be a wilting flower, shrieking at the sight of a needle.

Skye accepted the pain like a long-lost family member.

“Family.” The suit- no, Coulson, he’d said- was smiling warmly. “Very nice.”

“You know Chinese?” Skye turned around, her eyebrows raised. "May wrote it for me."

Robbie looked up. This wasn’t her dad? Could have fooled him, but they had to be related somehow.

On impulse, Robbie spoke up. “It suits you.”

Skye turned to him, her eyes wary. “What does?”

“Family.” Robbie gestured to the tattoo. “Family suits you.”

Her eyes glimmered, with a flash of pain, and Robbie knew he was seeing her for the first time.

“Tattoos can get addicting,” he forced a smile. “Check me out if you need another. If your dad lets you.”

She laughed softly, and as the sound echoed through his shop, she wiped away a tear. Robbie’s chest clenched, there were too many tears in too many people’s lives.

He watched them leave, walking back to that sweet red Corvette, and he wondered if they’d experienced heartache too.

* * *

 

Robbie was closing for the night days later, when he found an envelope in the register, with the exact amount of cash needed for Gabe’s Science Camp.

He wasn’t expecting it, and when he realized it was actual money, hundreds of dollars, he dropped it, bills flying everywhere. What kind of setup was this?

But he spotted a familiar yellow sticky note. Chinese script was on one side, and on the other: _Family suits you, too_

He frantically ran to the back and pulled up the security feed. His blood ran cold when was he found a five-minute window of scrambled video footage.

“Who are these people?” he wondered. Fairy godmothers - or god sisters- didn’t exist.

One thing for sure; he wasn’t using that money.

* * *

 

A few nights later, making his first delivery for Ignacio, Roberto ‘Robbie’ Reyes was ambushed by a gang and died.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignacio is the mechanic that works at Canelo's in the Ghost Rider arc. This chapter is set toward the end of season 2
> 
> Shout out to @eveeelyn22 who made the gif above :)  
> The namaste bit is an inside joke between me and brittinni :)


	2. Daisy

* * *

 

The voice in Robbie’s head was a son of a fucking bitch.

Sneering. Insistent. It demanded vengeance, _craved_ it.

Sin was a debt, and the payment was blood.

Robbie didn’t know what was him, what was it; where he ended and the monster began. Maybe it was all him.

The door to his shop opened, the cheery bells grating his nerves.

Looking up, his heart stopped. It was Skye, the light in her eyes dimmer but still bravely flickering. Robbie prayed she didn’t have blood on her hands.

“I have it on good authority the tattoo artist here does an awesome job.” Her voice was huskier than he remembered it.

He inhaled, steeling himself.

He was fed up of this, the constant pretending, and the fight within him. The demon was a savage wolf at the door of his mind, a hairsbreadth from taking over and wreaking destruction.

**It’s vengeance, you sniveling boy.**

“Robbie, what’s wrong?” Skye was at his side in a flash, touching his arm. He jerked away.

“Can I help you?” Robbie avoided her eyes, clenching his jaw.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to-” she took a step back. “Um, I came to get another one? Tattoo.”

“No. I’m sorry, Skye,” Robbie cleared his throat. “You have a design in mind?”

“It’s Daisy,” she murmured. “My name's Daisy, now.”

Robbie blinked at her. “Change of name have anything to do with that tip you left me?” The Ghost Rider was snarling, wanting to get out, and look at her. Robbie shoved it aside. “I didn’t spend it.”

“That was for Gabe, not you,” Daisy handed him a page with a picture of a tiny daisy. “He’s a smart kid. He deserved it. Sure you okay?”

“I’m not interested in any deals,” Robbie glared. “Keep your damn money.”

“Who said anything about a deal?” Daisy took a tentative step toward him, her brows furrowed.

“Everyone, everything, expects something in exchange,” Robbie snarled, his anger unraveling. “No gift is free.”

Daisy blinked back tears, as vibrations painfully echoed along her bones, in tune to the constant sorrow in her heart. He was right; no gift ever came free.

They stared at each other, as a tear rolled down her face, and his hands shook, each truly seeing the other, pain and anger mingling.

“How about you hook me up with tattoos, then?” Daisy choked out, wiping her cheek. God, she was tired of always crying.

He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Just-” Robbie inhaled. Exhaled. In and out. He could do this. “Just let me not have to pretend around you, okay?”

Fuck, she’d probably think he was high or something, with that request.

But her face relaxed. “Deal,” she nodded. And just like that, the disagreement was forgotten.

She left the tattoo shop with a tiny daisy with falling petals behind her ear, and it was only after she’d gone, that Robbie realized her hair was different.

No more bangs and big bouncy hair, it was sharply cut, short with choppy edges.

Wonder what that was about.

**Puerile thoughts. Worried about some girl’s _hair._**

_Padre Santo._ It never left him alone.

* * *

 


	3. Quake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks @allthenamesiwantareused for the Ulysses tidbits ! <3

He almost didn’t recognize her a year later.

Literally, because she was wearing so much makeup.

She’d flat ironed the life out her hair, and dyed it jet black, blocking out light. Good thing he had better control of the Rider, or it’d be sneering. The chains at her neck clanked dissonantly, and her voice, the one thing he always remembered her by, was bitter.

“It’s been a minute,” he watched her warily as she stomped up. “Looking for new ink?”

She flung a piece of paper at him. Robbie recognized the anger, he knew it intimately. He could take it.

His face, already neutral, went blank when he saw her design. He remembered her teasing Coulson, those silly bangs covering half her face and her brazenly wanting to help his brother.

“No,” he told her flatly. “You’re not putting that on your body.”

She tilted her head, almost welcoming his response. The light in her eyes, was only flickering when he saw her last; now it was extinguished.

“First of all,” she gestured angrily, her nails bitten down and black nail polish chipped. “You fucking _owe_ me unlimited tattoos, or did you forget our deal?”

Robbie raised an eyebrow, and folded his arms.

“Second, you have no say in what I want on _my_ body” She stepped aggressively toward him. “And finally, it’s your fucking _job,_ so how about you _do it_ before I get you fired.”

Robbie tapped the paper on his counter, unfazed.

She was an angry whirlwind, but he had a vengeful hurricane in him every second of the day. And beneath her glittering eyes and sharp movements, he knew she was brittle and ready to break.

He looked down at the words she wanted to be tattooed.

 _Where I go, death follows_ in a curlicue font meant for a prayer, not a curse.

“What brought all this on?” he asked. “You in trouble?”

“Death brought this on.” Daisy’s mouth twisted, stepping closer. “And I _am_ trouble.”

“Where’s your dad? Your family?”

Her fist shot out and would’ve connected with his jaw if he wasn't used to fighting almost every night now. He held her arm, then blocked her other one as she swung on him again. It pained him to touch another person - it reminded him of his lost humanity- but he brought her in a tight submission hold.

“I betrayed my family, okay?” she thrashed in his arms, trying to break free. “That’s what I do.” A swift jab of her elbow in his stomach caught him off guard, and he coughed, releasing her.

She stumbled back, her face wet, and Robbie’s chest tightened.

She was emerging from the shroud of anger, and she looked so lost, like how Gabe was when their parents died. The only that helped his baby brother was sleep, round the clock hugs, and time.

“You need somewhere to crash?” Robbie hesitated, unsure of the etiquette when you’ve met someone exactly twice, and for only a couple hours each time.

“Nah, I got a place.” Her voice was hoarse as she shrugged her jacket off.

“Where do you want your new tattoo?” Robbie kept his tone level as he made out the blooming purple bruises on her arms, and the sharp black lines snaking around her skin.

“You’ll do it then?”

Robbie’s mouth flattened. “I’ll do one. Not that.” Curiosity got the better of him. “What’s up with your arms?”

“Problems with my bones and it shows up on my skin. But I’m taking something for it.” She sauntered to the red wall, the one with the pictures of the tattoos. “So what tat should I get? Captain America is still popular right?” Her voice broke, and Robbie knew she was remembering Coulson.

The paper she’d brought was crumpled on the scuffed floor and Robbie carefully picked it up, and tucked it in his jacket pocket. “What do you need, Daisy?”

Daisy exhaled, eyes burning, and throat tightening. “You’d think I’d run out of tears by now.” She looked back at Robbie. “Our other deal was to not pretend, right?” She walked back to him, cataloguing his appearance. He looked leaner, almost gaunt and was growing his facial hair in. Same worn black jeans, same shoes with the white stripe. No more grey hoodie though. “Nice jacket,” she commented. “Is it new?”

Robbie leaned on the counter as she rambled, his face serious, but his eyes soft.

“I wish I could die,” she said, conversationally. “But I don’t deserve it.” She kicked the wooden stool at the cash register. “Not till I clean up my messes.”

Her eyes dared him to refute her.

“I asked what you needed. Not what you wish.”

“I don’t deserve what I need,” Daisy choked out.

“Come on back.” Robbie held out his hand to her, his black hair gleaming in the overhead light. "I got something for you.”

Daisy stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment, unmoving, torn between smacking it away or taking it.

He closed the distance between them and brushed his fingers on hers gently. “Let’s go.”

She sighed, trudging behind him but when she saw the quote he'd drawn, she was glad she followed; the words calmed her soul.

“Can I get this on the inside of my arm?” she asked.

“Your arms look like shit, no needles on them,” Robbie surveyed her critically. “Maybe on your hip like you wanted the other one? But you’re not dressed for it.”

“My clothes are in my van,” she said, absently. She’d grabbed a binder and was looking at some other tattoo placements. “I can always change.”

“You’re living in a van?” Robbie blurted.

“Beats living on the street,” she replied dryly, flipping through the binder. "Robbie!" she gasped, shoving a picture at him. "How about here?" She sidled closer so they could both look. "On my shoulder blade?”

Liquid heat coursed through Robbie as she brushed up on him, and his lips parted as an image flashed, of bare skin and tangled limbs. Daisy’s back was to him as he tasted and traced the tattoo, and their fevered breathing echoing in the night.

And as swiftly as it came, it disappeared.

“I- I- um,” Robbie stammered, moving away from her. “You’ll have to take off your shirt. How about your ankle instead?”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “My ankle? Really? I didn’t elbow you too hard, did I?”

Robbie exhaled, suddenly feeling foolish. “It’s all good, chica.” He grabbed a box of black gloves, thankful for the barrier between them and he dutifully looked away, as she took off her shirt.

Her sports bra exposed enough of her back, and she let him choose the ink color and script. He settled for a small feminine font in black.

She kept up a steady stream of chatter as he worked, and while at first, he welcomed the distraction, soon he was enjoying hearing her ramble on.

It soothed him.

“So what’s with the porno stache?” she was asking now. “Your girlfriend likes it?”

“Don’t watch porn. And don’t have a girlfriend.” Robbie was getting used to her teasing. “Your boyfriend likes the emo look?”

“He’s dead because of me.” Raw pain flashed across her face.

“I’m sorry,” Robbie said, sincerely. “That why you left home?”

Daisy grunted. “It was the icing on a pretty fucked up cake.”

Robbie glanced at the tattoo behind her left ear, and then her right.

The Chinese symbol for Family. And a tiny daisy.

“And now you’re getting a quote from Ulysses,” he observed, blotting off some ink.

She stilled. “What did you say?”

“Quote’s from Ulysses. Was going to get it for myself, believe it or not. Fits you better.”

Her eyes were red-rimmed and when they met his, Robbie tamped down the urge draw her in for a hug.

“What do you think?” he asked instead, admiring his artwork.

_The longest way round is the shortest way home._

“Coulson would flip if he knew I had Ulysses on me,” she wiped her eyes. “And May would flip because part of the Chinese word for family sorta means home.”

“Who’s May?” Robbie was curious. “What's Coulson to you? I thought he was your dad.”

“I don't want to talk about them.” Daisy's chin wobbled. “It hurts too much. My life really is the longest way round right now.”

“It’s the shortest way home,” Robbie’s mouth lifted upward. “It hurts because you care. Maybe you should go see them?”

Daisy ignored his words as he bandaged her tattoo. “You getting any new ink?”

“Maybe. Thinking about getting part of the line before yours. _Think you’re escaping and run into yourself._ Cause that’s me."

Robbie’s entire face was on fire now. Why was he oversharing?

“What are you escaping?” She seemed genuinely curious.

“Life. Death.” Robbie paused. He’d almost told her that he’d escaped both of those already. Only to crash right back into himself. “Fate.”

“No such thing as fate,” Daisy scoffed, walking off. “You make it.”

“Like how you're making _yours_?” Robbie bit out, suddenly angry that she would judge him while wanting to throw her life away.

Her footsteps faltered, and she spun around, her eyebrows furrowed as she surveyed him, seeing him truly.

And before he knew it, she was in his personal space, grabbing his forearm, examining it. “You right hand handed? Get it on that hand. Here.” Her fingers slid to his inner forearm and wrist. “Black ink. Same lettering style.” She smirked, dropping his arm. “Consider it an experiment for when I see you next.”

Robbie nodded and gave in to the urge to fix her hair. ‘When I see you next, then.” He sifted his hand through her hair, marveling at how light and smooth it felt, flowing through his fingers. He frowned. “Where do you shower?”

She laughed, pulling away from him. “We can get matching tattoos, but I draw the line at my shower habits. Creeper.” She waved goodbye and sauntered out his shop.

Robbie’s chest was warm, as a long forgotten emotion bloomed.

**It’s weakness, Roberto.**

Robbie smiled, the first one since he died. It wasn’t weakness at all, and if he allowed it, it could be his greatest strength.

He shook his head, sending the Rider back in its cage, and he began whistling as he cleaned up the shop.

_Think you’re escaping and you run into yourself. The longest way round is the shortest way home._

Maybe he needed to stop trying to outrun his fate and accept it. And he could help Daisy find her way home to her family.

* * *

 

The next day, Robbie stepped on a folded note that was slipped under the tattoo shop’s front door.

 

> _I need a tattoo of a quake (like an earthquake). Maybe a seismograph reading? Make sure it looks cool. Also, I can’t believe you’ve read Ulysses._

Robbie grinned. “And this chica calls me bossy.” He carefully put the paper in his jacket pocket, next to her other notes.

Good thing he came in early. He needed to research earthquakes and seismic readings and sketch out his new tattoo.

He didn’t see Daisy’s van parked across the street as she watched him for the last time, and the soft smile on her face when she saw his grin.

"May we meet again, Robbie” she murmured as she keyed the engine to life and pulled off.

It was time she went back home.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired to use Ulysses, because Coulson mentioned he wanted to read it S4, ep 12:)
> 
> Picture by @memorizingthedigitsofpi, love you! <3


	4. phil and melinda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Melinda go through a new experience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to my dear @agentmmayy for prompting me to include a philinda moment, and for her headcanons of what tattoos they would get :) <3

“You know, this is like old times,” Phil Coulson quirked a smile at Melinda May. “Me. You. A gun at my back.”

“Old times would be me rescuing you,” she corrected. “Not you half naked.”  She glanced at his mouth when his smile widened.

“That could’ve been arranged,” Phil waggled his eyebrows. “ Still can.”

“Still making jokes when you’re nervous?”  Melinda rolled her eyes, and to an outsider, it would’ve looked like she was annoyed, but her eyes held a sparkle.

But Coulson’s smile faded. “Rhetorical question. You might as well ask if Daisy’s still gone.”

Melinda looked away, clenching her jaw. She should’ve taken better care of Daisy. Should’ve seen the signs, been there for her.

“Don’t blame yourself, May,” Coulson started. He reached out to touch her hand, then caught himself.

“It’s hard not to,” May confessed, glancing away. “I was her commanding officer. I should’ve-”

“Coulda, shoulda, woulda,” Coulson interrupted. “That’s why we’re here right?”

Melinda huffed a laugh. “I guess.”

A cough sounded. “Are you ready? Sir?”

Coulson looked up and grinned. They were in Virgil’s Tattoo Parlour, and he was about to get his very first tattoo.  “Phil is fine. And ready as I’ll ever be.”

He closed his eyes, waiting for the pinpricks of the tattoo gun. But the first thing he felt was the warmth of May’s hand clasping his own.

Surprised, he blinked his eyes open.

“Daisy will come home. I know it.” May's voice was soft but sure. 

Phil couldn’t even muster the strength to pretend he believed her.

“You always wanted an eagle to represent SHIELD,” May said softly. “But was too scared to get it. You know, I always wanted a tiger?”

“I feel a joke coming on, but I think I should keep it to myself,” Phil smiled warmly.

“If I hear the phrase _tiger mom_ from you-” May growled.

“I was about to make a spread eagle and being eaten joke but-”

“He’s ready for the tattoo,” May barked at Virgil, her cheeks flushing. “You can start right now.”

* * *

 

They left with a tattoo each, Phil with the SHIELD eagle on his right shoulder, and May with a pouncing tiger in the same spot.

“Pouncing Tiger, Spread Eagle,” Phil teased as they got into the glossy black SUV.

“Shut up, Phil."

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

A week later, like May predicted, Daisy returned, in her battered old van.

No one mentioned her new ink, or new clothes and hair, they were just happy she'd come home, Fitz and Mack especially and they enveloped her in a hug so tight, she joked they got her back just so they could kill her.

AIDA, a life model decoy, and new invention by Fitz and Dr. Radcliffe was the only one perplexed by the changes around the base and the emotions by the humans around her.

"How odd," AIDA mused, before returning to the Darkhold.

She had much work to do.

* * *

 


	5. before the Framework

Robbie was flipping the faded _Open_ shop sign to _Closed_ when a shadow passed.

It was Daisy.

“Here for my tattoo, Reyes,” she announced, tossing her hair. It was longer now,  in soft, dark brown waves.

He pushed away the fluttering of happiness. “What’re you calling yourself these days?” he growled, as he let her inside.

She smirked in reply as she strode in, hips swaying like she owned the place, her boots sharply clicking on the wooden floor.

Her breezy attitude irritated Robbie and he slammed the door shut before locking it.  There was a spark of hope the last time they'd met, that he had a friend, someone as broken as he was.  He'd sketched drawing after drawing of seismic readings, researching earth science till he probably could teach a class on earthquakes.

He put ink on his body for her, just knowing she’d be back soon. But she didn't show.

Robbie swallowed the hurt as he moved to his work area, not waiting to see if she was following.

“You're upset,” Daisy observed.

“ _You're_ late,” Robbie's mouth twisted as he pulled out a large sketchbook.

Daisy watched his sharp movements as he went to a small sink to wash his hands, a cold expression on his face.

“Sorry I didn't come sooner,” she said gently, idly flipping the sketch pad, as he dried his hands.

“Hey!” Robbie exclaimed when he realized she was looking through his work. “Don't go through that.”

“Got nudes in there?” Daisy gave him a lopsided grin, but she tossed it down.

“Everything isn't a joke,” Robbie pulled the sketch pad away and went to the back of it.

“Sorry-"

“Let me know if you like this.” Robbie ignored her as he pulled out a sheet of paper.

Daisy forgot his grumpy mood when she glanced down at the seismograph reading.

“It's beautiful,” she gasped, trailing her fingers on the lines. “You did this?”

“I would be a shit tattoo artist if I couldn't,” he grumbled, thawing under her praise. He snuck a look as she tucked her hair behind her ear. There were stitches on her cheekbone and her lip was cut. Her face was leaner, but even with the bruises and no makeup, she was inexplicably more beautiful.

“Is that a heart?” she frowned, looking up. “Why?”

 _Your eyes are perfect,_ Robbie thought as she gazed at him.

“It's from the largest earthquake to hit China.” Robbie cleared his throat. “It was destructive. I- I didn't want you to have destruction on your body.” His cheeks burned as the words crossed the distance to Daisy and her eyes warmed to liquid pools of chocolate.  Robbie dropped his gaze as a familiar pull drew him in. How could she feel like part of him yet be a stranger at the same time?

“Let's look at some color and placement options.”

“What's bothering you?” Daisy asked, softly. “Tell me.”

Robbie’s face shuttered as emotions swirled through him, making him feel small and helpless, and insignificant. Like a child begging to be seen and heard and loved, even for a moment. 

“We promised not to pretend, right?” Daisy touched his hand. “What's wrong?”

“You didn't come back,” Robbie blurted. “I kept waiting and _waiting_ for you. Every time the phone rang or someone came in.  For weeks. _Months_.”

The pity in Daisy's face was too much and he turned away, hiding his face, angry at being vulnerable. He inhaled to collect himself.

“My bad,” he tried again. “I know you're busy. It's no big deal-”

Daisy blinked back tears as she saw that familiar dance. That was her life in the orphanage, waiting for someone who never showed then pushing away the pain and pretending it didn’t matter, lying that she didn't care. 

She reached out to Robbie and pulled him close, holding him tightly. 

“I'm here now,” she murmured, inhaling his scent. It was smoke and leather and sweat, all male. 

Robbie was stiff at first, but then with a sigh, he melted, hugging Daisy back. “It's all good. I've been through a lot of bad shit.” Robbie rested his chin on her hair, closing his eyes. “Thinking about you kept me sane. I missed you.” His voice hitched. “You didn’t even ask to see my tattoo.”

“I’m sorry.” Daisy squeezed him tightly,  as the trauma from the last few months bubbled up, overwhelming her. 

Yeah, it’d been months.

She'd returned to SHIELD but the new Director Mace had been on her ass, while her old friendships weren't the same. She saw Lincoln in every corner and at night, dreamt she was still under Hive's control. And while she couldn't get it together, right under her nose, May, Coulson, Fitz, and Mace got captured by that psycho LMD.

And now she and Jemma had to rescue them in the Framework.

She nestled herself in Robbie’s chest, and squeezed her eyes shut, releasing all the tension she’d been holding in. Could she and Jemma do it? Was she wasting time by seeing Robbie before they left? Jemma was badly hurt from her fight from the LMD Fitz, and her gauntlets needed redoing, but was she using it as an excuse to run away?

A shaking started, and then a low rumble that grew louder and louder.

* * *

 

Startled, and sensing a threat since the rumbling seemed to penetrate very bones, Robbie pushed Daisy away, he had to protect her.

She stumbled back at first confused, then fearful as Robbie's eyes sparked amber and his face grotesquely melted away. 

“What the fuck Reyes?” Daisy defensively quaked him against a wall as adrenaline coursed through her. She screamed when it was replaced by a fiery skull.

The Fiery Skull roared in agony, and Daisy quaked it again, as terror enveloped her. But her worry was needless as the flames died out and  Robbie’s face reappeared, his skin knitting over and healing, even as burnt flesh wafted in the air.

“What the hell was that?” Robbie panted, as he fought the pain. “What did you do?”

“What did I do?” Daisy's snarled, her hand still raised against him. “What are _you_?”

 _“What_ am I?” Robbie spat, standing up straight. “You think I'm a _thing?”_ It was all bravado. Robbie fucking knew he was a monster, and a stupid one at that, giving away his secret so easily.

What a mess. 

He moved away to a corner, and slumped against the wall,  closing his eyes as he slid to the floor. He would give Daisy time to go, and this way he didn’t have to see her leave.

A gentle touch feathered on his skin.

“ ‘ _I'll escape and run towards you’,”_  Daisy read softly, interrupting his thoughts. She reached out and traced the tattoo, same ink color and lettering style as hers, right where she instructed him.

He swallowed and looked away, pain etched in the lines on his face. He never wanted Daisy to know his secret, he needed to keep that from her. So much for having a friend.

The ground rumbled as she blinked back tears. “Don't be afraid of me,” she sniffled. “I can't help it sometimes,”

“I'm not afraid of you, chica.” Robbie reached out and traced a warm tear away. “And I won't hurt you. I promise.”

“What-" Daisy began, then stopped. “How-?” She faltered. “You okay?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Robbie replied bitterly.

Daisy sighed and sat next to him, their shoulders touching.

“It matters,” she whispered, taking his arm and placing it on her lap. “You matter. You helped me see that I matter.” Tears were falling now, and she didn’t even care about wiping it away. The tears would probably only stop when she was dead.

“Want to see the different drawings I did?” Robbie changed the subject,  smoothing Daisy’s hair with his free hand. His heart skipped when she closed her eyes and nodded. 

“When can I see you again?” Robbie felt his voice crack. Why hadn't she noticed how beautiful he was?

“I have to go somewhere."  She leaned on him and he rested his face on her hair, nuzzling in it. “ I don't know if I'm coming back,” she smiled as more tears came. “Have to go find my friends that are stuck in a mind palace.”

“You'll come back,” Robbie went back to his sketchbook. “Or I'll burn the place down looking for you.”

Daisy laughed through her tears. “Promise?”

“Where do you wanna get your new tattoo?” Robbie raised his hand,  and after hesitating, he stroked her cheek.

Daisy inhaled. “You choose this time.” She leaned into his palm. “Please?”

Robbie cradled her face with her hands. “What's bothering you?”

“I told you,” Daisy’s face crumpled. “I don't know if I'm coming back. I'm scared.”

Robbie enveloped her in a fierce hug as her words sank in.

Vengeance would mean nothing if she was already dead.

“Let's do another matching set.” Robbie laid his cheek on her hair as she nestled into him. “That way if you don't come back, I'll have part of you.”

He wondered if it was the wrong thing to say when she started sobbing.

“That sounds beautiful.” she finally said.“Don't forget me okay?”

“I won't.” Robbie felt his throat close up. “So you like quakes?”

“You like fire?” Daisy teased him, as she wiped her eyes.

She takes her pain and spins it into goodness, Robbie’s marveled.

He had a sudden inspiration “How about I get a quake tattoo,” he went for his sketchbook. “and you get a fire one.”

Daisy scrunched her nose at him. “Tryna brand me as yours?” She batted her eyelashes playfully, and Robbie smiled. She was every good thing he didn't deserve.

Robbie grabbed a dog earned journal that was hidden under the counter. “I have some personal sketches in here-"

“Ooh, any dick pics?” she grinned as she leaned on his shoulder.

“You need help, chica,” Robbie tried to remain serious.

“Says the man whose head was smoking,” Daisy teased. Robbie hesitated, then put his arm around her, and she snuggled into him laying her head on his chest.

She gasped when he opened the journal.“You did this?”

It was an intricate drawing of flames, dancing outward.

“Yeah,” Robbie flushed. “It's alright.”

“It's beautiful.” Daisy touched the page reverently. “Like you.”

“Don't be silly,” Robbie scoffed, though his ears turned red.

He turned the page, and Daisy squealed when she saw more of his work. She peppered him with questions, asking about the pencils and pens he used, and when he started drawing.

“My, uh, dad, taught me,” Robbie said.  “He wanted to be an artist.”

“He must've been really talented.” Daisy hesitated,  then stroked his arm that his tattoo like hers.

“He was a mechanic and worked as a janitor on the weekends. He died not even knowing how much I liked drawing.”

“Hey,” Daisy linked their hands, “he was an artist, no matter what he did to pay the bills. And he had you, right? And Gabe?"

“He died when Gabe was a baby. And I was an asshole as a kid.” Robbie gave her a lopsided smile.

“Was?” Daisy poked his side and he laughed.  “I wish there was a way to tattoo your laugh on my skin.” Daisy rested her head on him. Laughter was a vibration, and she wished she had Robbie's with her always. 

Robbie tightened his hold on her, as her words washed over him.

“That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said.”  He nuzzled his face in her hair. It was soft, tickling his face, and smelled like happiness.

Inspired, he picked up his journal and a pencil, making a quick sketch while Daisy looked on in fascination.

“Phoenix feather,” he explained, his hand working quickly.

“Rising from the ashes huh?”

“Fire, and hope,  cause you're coming back.” Robbie never felt closer to anyone at this moment. It was beyond a physical attraction, it was realizing he could share himself,  the bad and the little good that remained.

“What about the quake drawings you did?” Daisy was unabashedly laying on him now, sprawled like he was her personal seat, her fingers stroking his forearm.

"I'll get the quake tattoo, you can get the fire one," Robbie frowned, not paying her any attention as he sketched, lost in his art. 

 And in the blink of an eye, an image flashed in Daisy's head, as real as if it were happening.

 

 

> _"Papi, Papi, we want to help," two little voices squealed, chubby, floured hands tugging on Robbie's shirt._
> 
> _"This is for mama's surprise," Robbie grinned at the little ones. "I want it to be perfect."_
> 
> _"Please," they begged. "Por favor." The rascals already knew the little Spanish was the way to their father's heart._
> 
> _"Okay, okay," Robbie kneeled down to their eye level. "Alex, you get the Quake. Sky, you take the Fire."  And he groaned, an aggrieved papá when each of the kids complained they wanted what the other had **.**_

And just like it came, it disappeared, leaving Daisy bereft. Alex and Sky? Were they girls or boys? Why were their hands floured? Why were they calling Robbie dad? Was she their mom? Was that a hallucination?

"Daisy. Are you okay? _Daisy_."

Daisy jumped as Robbie shook her and she shook her head. That was some sort of stress dream, or PTSD because there was no way-

Robbie shoved the sketch pad in her face and her blood ran cold, not at what he'd drawn, but at the sketch on the other page that fluttered open. 

 

It was her, Robbie and she knew without a doubt, that was Alex and Sky.

Meanwhile, Robbie was white as a sheet. "That's not what you think it is. I was just practicing with proportions and-"

Daisy smacked his chest, as she gazed at the picture, a glimpse into her future. 

"Don't talk about my babies like that," she traced the boy's nose, hoping Robbie didn't give him a hard time. This one had to be Sky, covering Robbie's eyes. 

"The girl's name is Alejandra," Robbie said, shyly. "She's on your shoulder cause she thinks it's her job to protect you."

"Cause that's what you taught her," Daisy sniffled, as emotions from another time settled in her chest. "And you have Sky cause he gives so much trouble sometimes, you're the only one who can handle him."

"Naw," Robbie smiled. "Cause you baby him too much, even when you don't have the energy."

"How did you-?" Daisy's eyes were wide. "Where do you-?"

"I get glimpses here and there. Of another life. A hard one. But somehow we make it work."

"Hard living is what I'm used to," Daisy said thoughtfully. glancing back at the sketch Robbie made for her. She left with a new tattoo, a phoenix to symbolize victory over death, and fiery for Robbie, but blue for the sky and hope.  

 

 

"Remember me," she said, squeezing him tight.

"I promise," he kissed her forehead.

Daisy blinked back tears, as her eyes raked over Robbie. He had the face of an angel with the demeanor of a devil, and she mightn't see him ever again. 

She waved goodbye, steeling herself that this meeting was their last.

Nothing good ever remained. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback is much appreciated.


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